


Toulouse Oswald-Tucker

by Nehszriah



Series: The Teacher, the Media Man, and the President of the United States [10]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Baby Fic, F/M, Gen, Kid Fic, Prompt Fic, Toulouse will get the blame for everything according to Malcolm, but Toulouse Oswald-Tucker come on that's an awesome name for a cat, even if he grows it love the cat, there is a kitten fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm comes home one day to find his son petting a kitten. They did not own a kitten when he left the house that morning. This is unacceptable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toulouse Oswald-Tucker

**Author's Note:**

> A) This takes place after Malcolm has been established within his job as one of Courtney's aides.
> 
> B) I'm personally not really a pet person, so Malcolm is partly channeling me.
> 
> C) I love the Aristocats and Dork/Dark Age Disney stop looking at me like that.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Daniel shrieked as he zoomed through the house, slamming into his father’s legs at full-speed. Malcolm braced himself against the door in order to not tumble over as he set his bag down on the floor, scooping up his son instead.

“How’s my wee troublemaker?” he asked. He grinned as the toddler hugged him, making the long day at work seemingly melt away.

“Daddy need meet Tuhwoose!” Daniel said. Malcolm began walking further into the house, a puzzled look on his face.

“Toulouse?” he wondered. Yeah, they _had_ been showing the lad a bunch of the Disney films that were on Netflix, and the one with cats seemed to be his favorite. “Did Mam buy you a toy Toulouse? I didn’t even think they made that shit anymore.”

“Merrrrowww.”

Malcolm stopped dead in his tracks, two steps into the living room. There, stumbling about on the rug, was a tiny ginger kitten. Daniel wiggled out of his father’s arms and hobbled over to the creature, squatting down beside it and stroking the fur along its back very carefully.

“See Daddy? This Tuhwoose! Mommy and me got him today!”

“I can see that…” Malcolm replied, unsure how to react. There had been no cat when he had left for work that morning, his spacious, custom-built American house completely animal-free aside from a few fish in a tank, but now… now there was a quadruped with _claws_ exploring underneath the ottoman.

“Oh, there you are Malcolm; welcome home,” Clara said as she found her boys all in one place. She kissed her husband on the cheek and bent down to pick up the kitten, holding him up on display. “I take it you’ve met Toulouse?”

“It’s a cat…” he frowned.

“He’s a _kitten_ , meaning we can train him how we want him and there’s no unlearning of bad habits that need to happen,” she said frankly.

“…but you got a cat without asking me first.”

“No, you agreed to it on Sunday.”

“ _When_ on Sunday? In my fucking sleep?”

“No; you were making dinner and I asked you what you thought about getting Daniel a pet…”

“I thought you meant in a few years! Clara, he’s _two_!” Malcolm glared at the kitten, not letting its charms get the best of him. “Be glad that getting rid of you would make me the bad guy, or you’d have a one-way ticket to the pound.”

“No pound, Daddy! Tuhwoose _stay_!” Daniel protested. Clara placed the kitten back on the carpet and the little boy picked him up gently by the middle, kissing the fur between his ears before bouncing off.

“ _Clara_ , that the actual fuck?!” Malcolm asked, keeping his voice down. “Daniel’s enough of a challenge on his own and now you want to throw a kitten into the mix?”

“I told you that we can train him, so don’t worry about it—when I asked Daniel what sort of pet he wanted, he said he wanted a _Toulouse_. Our boy knows what he wants.”

“Yeah, but does our boy know what he’s getting us into? No…” he argued. “Shredded upholstery, ruined curtains, piss _everywhere_ …”

“He is litter-trained already and is up-to-date on his shots,” she fired back. “Daniel wants a Toulouse, so he has a Toulouse.”

“Yeah, he wants the bloody thing, but for how long?”

“Malcolm, give it two weeks; if you’re not convinced, then we can talk about what to do to get rid of him. For now…” Clara glanced over at Daniel, who was dangling a rubber toy mouse over Toulouse, watching the kitten try to grab at it. “…let’s just let him have fun.”

Okay, that was reasonable, he admitted, and got going on preparing dinner. He had to watch out and make sure that he didn’t step on the damn fuzzball (which he nearly did several times and actually did twice), and griped about it the entire way.

* * *

Later on that night, Clara was putting Daniel to bed as Malcolm was performing his own nightly ritual. He had already showered, brushed his teeth, put on the pajama bottoms he usually slept in, and had bid his son good-night. Now it was just a matter of making a bathroom run and waiting in bed for his wife to join him. He walked into the ensuite and lifted the toilet seat, whipping out his cock so he could empty his bladder right then instead of in the middle of the night. Once the stream was finished, he stuffed himself back in his pajamas, only to hear a confused squeak coming from the floor.

He looked to see Toulouse staring up at him, ginger head cocked to the side curiously. Malcolm hissed at it, causing the kitten to bound away in terror.

“Fucking watching me piss—what’s wrong with the damn thing,” he growled. After flushing the toilet and replacing the seat, he checked to make sure the kitten was nowhere in the room before he laid in bed, the mattress feeling good against his sore back. He had nearly drifted off to sleep when the bed shifted and Clara joined him.

“Daniel’s down and out for the count,” she purred, cuddling up next to him. Malcolm shifted and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in close.

“Then Mam and Dad can have a bit of fun before it’s their turn,” he smirked. “Mind taking top tonight? Deadlifting our boy is turning his old man into an old man.”

“Not a problem,” Clara chuckled. She pushed her husband gently on his back, climbing up so that she sat towering over him. Leaning down, she began to kiss him tenderly while his hands wandered along her body. Their breathing was hitched and their hips hungrily grinding against one another when a sound shattered the atmosphere worse than their son’s cries.

“Meeerrrrrrrrowwww,” Toulouse mewled, climbing the comforter in order to scale the bed and join the humans. Clara rolled off Malcolm and picked the kitten up, snuggling him with her cheek before putting him down on the blankets between them.

“Looks like Mum and Dad have another kid to watch out for,” she giggled, scratching Toulouse’s back with her fingernails. “I’m going to have to make sure I put him in his crate tomorrow night.”

“Why can’t you put him in his crate _now_?” Malcolm whined.

“You said your back was sore anyhow—it’s better if we just sleep. You promised Daniel you’d take him to the playground tomorrow and that takes a lot out of you even on a good day.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighed in defeat. They settled down into a hug, Toulouse sleeping softly on their legs. It was definitely something they were going to have to adjust to.

* * *

The next day, Clara bid her husband and son goodbye as they went off to the playground in-town, leaving her and Toulouse at home all afternoon. She worked on the kitten, redirecting him from certain hallways and making sure he stayed out of Malcolm’s office. A couple hours passed and she placed Toulouse in his crate, firing off a text to her husband saying she needed to pick up a couple things for dinner. He responded favorably and she was off, driving into town on her tiny scooter that the neighbors all found adorable and trendy.

When she returned, however, she had to stop herself from bursting into laughing. She came into the house through the back door, expecting to find her son watching Daniel Tiger and her husband nudging the kitten around with his foot. While Daniel Tiger was playing on the television, Clara found her Daniel curled up in his father’s lap, with Toulouse in his, all three of them sleeping in the warm sunshine pouring in through the window. Malcolm’s hand was resting on the kitten’s body as if he had been petting him, which was a very good sign.

She knew it was only a matter of time before Malcolm was used to Toulouse, although it was quicker than expected. Then again, there were worse things that could happen, and she was fine with that.


End file.
